


The Perceptions of You and I

by lavenderlotion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Established Relationship, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omega Stiles Stilinski, POV Alternating, POV Outsider, Peter Hale is a Softie, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Talia Hale is a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 15:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17810471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “Baby, why did your secretary ask me if I was here under duress?”Peter looks at him, blinks slowly, and then tilts his head to the side before asking, “She what?”“She asked if you were forcing me to be here,” Stiles says, eyes flicking across the room to where said assistant is standing at the punch bowl. “She wanted to know if you were blackmailing me or threatening me.”“She thinks you’re here under duress because Peter is such a terrifying bastard there’s no way a human Omega would be with him otherwise.”





	The Perceptions of You and I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frostedgoddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedgoddess/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [frostedgoddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedgoddess/pseuds/frostedgoddess) in the [Teen_Wolf_Prompt_Drop_Off](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Teen_Wolf_Prompt_Drop_Off) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Born Werewolves run the world, they are the old white men of this universe. Bitten wolves are less so, but still better than fragile little human beings. Peter has a stunning reputation as the evilest CEO/lawyer, and the most ruthless Hale alive. He sends his underlings home in tears on the regular. So, naturally, the terrified, browbeaten employees of Hale Communications Incorporated are horrified to find out that Peter has a mate, a delicate little human! They reach conclusions of the worst kind. 
> 
> Peter probably ties up his mate and whips him, works him hard every day, and makes him cry just as often as he makes his reports cry. Then at a function, a pale slip of a human shows up and starts mouthing off to Peter, who just sighs and smiles despite the insults and sass.

The elevator doors ding open and Erica looks up from the termination email she’s been drafting for the better part of an hour. Someone steps into the lobby and she plasters a pleasant smile onto her face, ignoring the voice in her head that tells her she could do so, so much better than being Mr. Hale’s assistant, if only the world wasn’t what it is.

She smiles wider when the...boy steps closer. “Can I help you?” Erica asks, perfectly pleasant, despite wanting to turn up her nose at the boy’s appearance. 

Not only does this stranger  _ stink _ like human, but he’s wearing ratty sneakers, jeans that are littered with rips, and a t-shirt that is slipping off his shoulder and hanging down past his waist—clearly a few sizes too large. His hair is an absolute mess, and he’s...well, Erica assumes he  _ could _ be attractive—he has the type of cheekbones she wishes for—but not looking as he does now. 

“Hey-ya,” the boy says, stepping forward and rocking on the balls of his feet. It’s then she notices the mating bite, reflecting silver against his throat. An Omega, then. “I’m here to see Peter.”

Erica regards him for a moment, wondering if this kid is actually serious or if she is currently being filmed for some sort of show, like  _ Punk’d _ . If that’s the case, she’s just glad she did her hair that morning instead of leaving it in the ponytail she had gone to bed with it in. 

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, though she knows he doesn’t. Mr. Hale is having a slower day, and his only meeting that day isn’t until two-fifteen with Talia. 

The boy blinks. Then blinks again. “ Uh , nope,” he pops his ‘ p’ . Erica resists the urge to claw his stomach open. “But if you told him I was here, I’m sure it’d be just fine.”

Erica bites into her bottom lip to keep in a laugh. Her blouse probably costs more than the entire outfit this boy has on; there is no way he would be able to afford Mr. Hale’s services. Hell, the initial consultation fee is so high that when Erica first charged a client, she had been convinced the price was wrong.

“I’m afraid that isn’t how this works,” Erica begins, speaking as though she’s explaining something to a small, stupid child. She has no idea if this boy knows where he is, but there is no way in hell he’s getting a walk in meeting with  _ Peter Hale _ . She tells him as much, unable to hide the disdain in her voice as she very slowly explains that Mr. Hale is the  _ most _ sought-after defence attorney on this side of the coast. 

“O-kay,” the kid says, drawing out the word. He doesn’t move like she had been expecting and instead pulls a phone from his back pocket. Erica can’t help the  little bit of envy she feels upon seeing it—the latest model in the colour she wanted but couldn’t hope to afford with her starting salary—and taps away on it as he whistles. 

It’s not what she was expecting, from the way he’s dressed. 

A moment later, the door beside her desk slams open loud enough that she jumps in her seat, her breath catching as fear shoots up her back. She turns, slowly, to find Mr. Hale standing in his doorway. His mouth is set in an angry frown and the glare that is being directed towards her makes her palms sweat. 

The last time Erica saw such an expression on his face, it was in court. His client had lied to him during their meetings, and Mr. Hale had found out in the courtroom, his client on the stand, being talked into an admittance that would have cost any other lawyer their case. Peter still won, of course, but he had verbally eviscerated the man the second they were back in his office. 

The scene had given Erica nightmares for a week, imaging Mr. Hale doing all the things he had threatened the man with to her. Now, that look makes cold fear race up her spine. She shivers, her heart thundering, and tilts her neck in instinctual submission.

“Stiles,” Mr. Hale greets the boy by name, and the smile the kid gives Erica is sharp. He skips by her desk, not saying a word as he slips by Mr. Hale, pressing bodily against him on his way into the office. “I don’t expect this to happen again, Miss Reyes,” Mr. Hale tells her, and his eyes flash a deep, scarlet red that screams power. “It would do you good to remember how expendable you are to this company, understand?”

Erica nods, her lips pulled into a thin line. Her heart is still racing though she does her very best to calm the erratic beating. She doesn’t want to show weakness. 

“Very good,” Mr. Hale says, and his tone is final. He goes back into his office, the door once again slamming behind him.

Erica slumps into her seat and covers her face with shaking hands. She chokes down terrified tears. She has no idea who the hell  ‘ Stiles’ is, but she says a little prayer that she never has to interact with him again.  

* * *

The first time that Derek realizes his Uncle Peter is  _ mean _ , that he can be a cruel, vicious man, he is eleven. Peter is seventeen and only picking him up from school because Derek is his favourite (a title that Derek carries with pride; he loves Uncle Peter). Since Peter goes to a different high school, there is really no reason for him to drive all the way to get him every day.

Derek walks to his uncle’s car slowly, trying his very best to hide his limp and force down the tears that want to escape from his eyes. 

It’s hard, because every time he steps on his leg it hurts and makes him want to whimper. The older boys had pushed him too hard, and he hadn’t been able to get his balance before he got to the top of the staircase. His healing has been slower, lately, and his mama keeps telling him it’s because his body is hard at work figuring out his presentation.

Not like everyone doesn’t already know. 

Derek sees Peter’s car and quickens his pace. After the day he’s had, he just wants to curl up in Peter’s lap, even if he’s too old to do so. Peter always smells nice—not like the Alphas at school who smell like sweat and come, but like the special saltwater taffy that his mama gets them once a year. 

“Hey, Hale-bitch!” Mark is a senior who comes from a family of Alphas. Derek recognizes his voice and flinches, hunching his shoulders. “You forgot something, slut!”

Derek doesn’t look back, so the water balloon hits the back of his head and breaks open, soaking his hair and his neck and his backpack. His lower lip quivers as his pace increases, shame welling up in his stomach and making his throat tight. He nearly starts crying when Peter steps out of the car, and he stumbles to a halt when his uncle’s eyes start to glow blue.

Peter growls loud enough that Derek can hear it, and then he’s off, stalking past Derek (who turns to watch him) and heading straight for the group of senior boys that mess with Derek the most. They stop laughing when they catch sight of Peter, and Derek sucks in a breath that he holds in his lungs as Peter approaches them.

He goes straight for Mark. 

He goes straight for Mark, face broken out in outrage, eyes glowing electric blue and fangs digging into his lower lip, and wraps a claw-tipped hand around his throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against a tree. Derek lets out a startled gasp, covering his mouth with both of his hands as he watches Peter lean in close, until he and Mark are eye-level. 

“If you touch Derek again, I’ll rip your fucking knot off, you understand?” Peter’s words are slurred by his growl as they’re forced out around his fangs. Mark nods, very quickly, and then the bitter scent of urine hits Derek’s nose and he knows right away what happened. 

Peter drops him in disgust, and Mark hits the ground flat on his butt. None of the other boys say anything at all, and when Derek looks at them they’re all staring after Peter with wide, terrified eyes. Derek can smell their fear from where he’s standing, and he watches in awed silence as Peter walks back towards him. 

Anger drains out of Peter’s face as he gets closer. By the time he has Derek tucked under his arm and pressed against his side to lead him towards the car, his face is soft and his smile is pleasant. He opens Derek’s door for him, and Derek  _ doesn’t _ blush. 

“How about some ice cream?” Peter asks, and Derek nods quickly, still unable to say anything.

Before Peter turns away, Derek very, very quickly launches forward and wraps himself tightly around his uncle, hugging him with all his strength and muttering thanks into his chest. “You’re my pack, pup. No one gets to fuck with you,” Peter says into his hair, and Derek just holds on tighter. 

His perception of Peter might be changing, but Derek is so,  _ so _ grateful that his uncle is terrifying. 

* * *

Vernon has been Mr. Hale’s security guard for three years when he meets the human Omega. The boy is only noticeable because he is not: worn sneakers, navy jeans, a plain t-shirt under a plaid over shirt under a red hoodie. His hair is shaved in a buzz cut and aside from the moles dotting his cheeks, he looks nondescript. Vernon takes  notice, as is his job.

The first time, he picks the kid up from an apartment on the side of town he spent years working his way out of. He reeks of human and fast food and sweat. As Vernon opens the car door, he considers asking the boy to wait while he lays down a plastic sheet. It is only the time that keeps him from doing so; he is already running late thanks to the kid, and he doesn't intend on angering Mr. Hale.

He gets the kid to Mr. Hale’s apartment on time, of course, and watches from the driver's seat as the boy pulls out a key pass that lets him into the apartment from the back pocket of his dirty jeans. He is all eager, happy energy as he bounces into the apartment building and Vernon figures that he seems nice enough. 

It’s hours later that the boy stumbles back out, walking with a limp that has only one cause. He gets out, opens the door, and doesn’t comment when all he can scent is soap. 

That’s only the first time. Over the next several months, Vernon picks the kid up more and more. It’s not hard to figure out who the kid is and what he’s doing with Mr. Hale. The fourth time Vernon gets him, he scents of Omega heat, and he will sometimes leave with nicely wrapped boxes that cause his cheeks to ruddy with a flush.  

It is not the first time that he has played taxi to one of Mr. Hale’s escorts. He’s sure it won’t be the last, either. While it is the first time that Mr. Hale has taken up the company of an Omega, he thinks nothing of it. He knows Mr. Hale well enough, and he knows that the man has always been careful when choosing his companions. 

This time, it’s later than usual when the Omega stumbles out of Mr. Hale’s apartment building; a building in which it’s glaringly obvious he does not belong in. Vernon gets out to meet him. Even from his place in the lot, he can see the brightness in the Omega’s eyes. The kid’s cheeks are  flushed, though the pout on his lips has Vernon thinking it’s not a pleasant blush. 

“Hey, big guy,” the Omega says, his tone aiming for pleasant despite the roughness of his voice. Vernon opens the door and says nothing about the bruises along the Omega’s wrists. He does his job, driving the boy home to the same shitty apartment. 

When he drops the kid off, he grunts a goodbye and doubts he will last much longer. 

They never do. 

* * *

Isaac looks at Scott and considers him for a long, quiet moment. Hell, he even tilts his head to the side as he does. Yep. There’s something off. Isaac may not know  _ what _ is different about Scott, but  _ something _ is off. Firstly, his best friend isn’t chattering excitedly like he would normally be. He’s sitting across from Isaac, eating, but not saying much of anything.

It’s strange. 

Only, it’s not as strange as it should be, but Isaac isn’t letting himself think of that. Of the other times Scott has acted like this, quiet and withdrawn. It’s so unlike how Scott usually acts, all bright enthusiasm and sunny smiles, that Isaac knows something is wrong. But Isaac doesn’t want to be right, not about this, so he sits there and considers Scott’s behaviour and what could be the cause.

“ Uh , Isaac?” Scott asks, his own head tilting to the side as he stares back. “There’s, uh, something I have to tell you, buddy.”

_ Oh _ , Isaac thinks, the nickname telling him all he needs to know,  _ he slept with her _ . He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest as he settles his face into a familiar, blank expression. Isaac knows that love isn’t supposed to hurt.  _ He does _ . But the only love he has ever experienced left him littered with scars, and why should loving Scott be any different?

“Was she at least a good lay?” Isaac asks, and his voice is an ugly, bitter thing. 

“Buddy—” Scott goes to say, his voice contrite, but he’s cut off when the door to the break room slams open so loudly that Isaac jumps in his seat, eyes flashing and claws popping as the loud noise causes fear to shoot up his spine. 

When Isaac manages to work up the courage to look over, Mr. Hale is standing in the doorway, eyes burning red. His dress shirt is stretched over his heaving chest, and he looks angrier than Isaac has ever seen him before, even after working for Mr. Hales’ firm for six years. 

Shit.

If Scott really did what Isaac thinks, it’s no wonder that Mr. Hale is fuming. Scott can be a dumb-ass, that Isaac knows, but this...well, this would be a new level of stupidity, even for him. Mr. Hale  _ stalks _ to their table, and Isaac’s entire body goes still. He can feel the power the other man wields and all Isaac can scent is the stench of his anger. 

“I am not angry at you, Isaac,” Mr. Hale says, and his heartbeat remains steady—elevated in anger, yes, but steady. It’s a reassurance that Isaac didn’t know he needed but calms him as soon as he has it. 

Mr. Hale turns to Scott and his eyes once again bleed red. Scott’s own flash red in turn, but he doesn’t do anything more than that. Scott wouldn’t stand a chance, should he challenge Mr. Hale, and they all know it. Mr. Hale takes a deep breath before he starts speaking, his voice deathly calm despite the insults he hurls. “You absolute, fucking  _ imbecile _ . Do you have no measure of intelligence? Are you so overwhelmingly stupid that you thought  _ sleeping with our competition was a good idea _ ?”

“I, I don’t—” Scott tries, stuttering over his words as he seems to draw into himself. Scott is an Alpha, yes, but he is nothing compared to Mr. Hale. Scott is a turned wolf, and that alone puts him on a lower level than Mr. Hale. True Alpha or not, there is no comparison between the two. 

“No, McCall, I am asking you a genuine question, and I expect an answer,” Mr. Hale states, before asking, “Are you a fucking idiot?”

“N-no? No, sir?” Scott tells him, hastily adding on the honorific when Mr. Hale does nothing but raise an eyebrow. A shiver runs down Isaac’s spine. 

“Then please, pray-tell, did you think sleeping with our competition was a good idea?”

“It wasn’t like that, sir, it—”

“Do you have any idea how much money you have cost this company? Do you have any idea what your  _ good time _ has done to our reputation? You could have ended us, you greedy child,” Mr. Hale’s voice drops to a heated whisper, and the venom in his voice makes Isaac curl forward in a desperate attempt to make himself appear smaller. None of it is directed at him, but fear still skates up his spine. 

“Hey! I didn’t do  _ anything _ like that!” Scott finally says, and he seems to find his voice at the same time he finds his backbone, standing tall in front of Mr. Hale. Isaac flinches involuntarily, watching Scott challenge Mr. Hale bringing up memories he rather keeps locked away. 

“Client information, company protocols,  _ stockholder insights _ .” Mr. Hale ticks off fingers as he speaks, not stopping until he has seven fingers unfurled, each one tipped with a claw. “That is the information  _ Argent Arms  _ now has. That is what they now  know, because you were unable to keep your dick to yourself.”

“Sir, that’s—”

“The only reason I am not suing is because of your history with Stiles. You better think long and hard about your future career, because if you even try to take on a law case again, I will  _ end you _ .” Scott nods his head and keeps his eyes down. From one Alpha to another that’s pretty much a show of submission. Isaac bites into his bottom lip to keep himself from saying anything. “Why are you still here, McCall? You are fired, and you have three minutes to be out of my building before I have security escort you out!” 

Scott flees. There’s no other word for it, and the sight almost makes Isaac want to laugh. He might’ve, if he wasn’t so full of conflicting emotions. Mr. Hale stands there, breathing heavily, and watches the door that Scott ran out of. Isaac’s entire body is locked up tight, lines of nervous tension, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Mr. Hale seems to collect himself, breathing in a long breath that expands his chest. He rolls his shoulders twice before he lets it out, and he seems to deflate, just a little. He still stinks of anger, the emotion coming off him in waves, but visually he looks far more composed than he did a moment before. Mr. Hale turns towards Isaac, and before he can stop it, a scared whine slips out of his throat. 

Mr. Hale’s eyes flash red, and Isaac bares his throat for his Alpha who is not yet his Alpha. He steps forward, in full view of the crowd that has come to watch Mr. Hale verbally eviscerate another one of his employees, and he cups a warm hand around the nape of Isaac’s neck. 

“Stiles is in my office if you’d like to take the afternoon off,” Mr. Hale says softly, and Isaac nods gently enough that it doesn’t dislodge Mr. Hale’s hand. 

He doesn’t move, not until Mr. Hale does, but it’s only so that the man can lead him out of the room. Mr. Hale murmurs apologies along the way, telling Isaac how sorry he is for upsetting him as he did. The hand on the nape of his neck never wavers, and Isaac lets his Alpha lead him from the break room and into the safety of his office, where the panic attack takes hold. 

* * *

Talia watches over her pack quietly. The moon is high in the sky and so very full. Its magic is pulling at her, but she stands on her front porch and watches as her pack takes off into the woods. The pups stay behind, set up in the backyard and sitting around the bonfire they have burning.

It is a good night. Her eyes catch on the human her brother has brought with him, and her lip curls up in a snarl. 

Talia knows what the boy is, and he is nothing more than a ploy to get under her skin. Peter has always been...less than thrilled that Talia had become Alpha of the pack instead of he, despite them both presenting as Alphas. He has never said anything, no, but the way he had taken to his work, all to avoid the pack, made it all quite obvious. Peter rarely spends time with the pack, and as far as Talia knows, the only members he sees regularly are her own children. 

This is the first full moon run he has attended in months. His arrival had been a shock to all, the Omega hanging off his arm even more so. Talia had known what her brother was up to from the moment she saw his smirk. Instead of giving him what he wanted, she played the perfect host, welcoming them both in with a hug and kind words. 

Despite what Peter had told the rest of the pack, she knows the truth. The silly Omega is nothing more than a toy Peter most likely paid. There is no way an Omega—a  _ human _ Omega at that—would take an Alpha like her brother, who has always been more wolf than man. He would be a danger to any mate, and she is glad that the boy is nothing more than one of her brother’s schemes. 

The boy laughs loudly at something one of the children has  said, though Talia doesn’t bother to listen in. She’s not worried. A human Omega poses her pack no harm; even the children would be able to take on someone so weak. 

Suddenly, Peter comes jogging out of the forest in his wolf-skin. There is a creature hanging from his jaw, and Talia turns her nose up further. It seems her brother has caught, of all things, a  _ mountain lion _ . How disgusting. A twisted sort of glee begins to rise in her chest, knowing full well that the slip of a human in which Peter brought will never accept such a creature. 

She is already biting into her bottom lip to stave off a peal of laughter when Peter saunters up to the boy and drops the dead, bloodied creature on the ground by his feet. There is a moment of silence before the boy  _ howls  _ with laughter, jumping to his feet only so he can launch himself at Peter.  

They go rolling, toppling over one another until Peter gets the human pinned underneath him. Talia goes to take a step forward, worried for the boy’s health, but all the kid does is laugh some more. He buries his hands in her brother’s fur and tugs him down. Peter huffs before he flops all of his weight onto the boy’s frame. 

“Thank you, Alpha,” she hears the boy say, but anything else is drowned out by her brother’s growl as he plants his muzzle into the boy’s neck. 

Talia looks away, disgust rolling through her belly. 

* * *

Kira has only just finished up with the mid-afternoon rush when the shop’s bell rings again. She manages to keep in her groan, just barely, and she lets her head hang between her shoulders for just a second. The shop is understaffed and overworked and Kira is  _ exhausted _ after going close to six hours without a break.

She’s been in constant motion since she got in, taking over from a frazzled looking Mason who definitely hasn’t been working long enough at  _ Beacon Brews _ to open alone like he did. When Kira came in, she’d had to juggle a hoard of coffee-hungry  _ vultures _ parading as citizens as she fixed everything Mason had accidentally done wrong. 

Now, she just wants a break. She really,  _ really _ wants a break. 

“Hey, foxy lady.” A familiar voice sounds from behind her, and a smile starts to pull at Kira’s lips as she turns around. When she sees who the patrons standing at the counter actually are, she perks up as much as her exhaustion will allow. 

“Hello, Stiles,” she greets, smiling happily when she sees her two favourite customers. “How are you two doing today?”

“I’m doing very well, thank you,” Stiles tells her as he skips up to the display case holding various baked goods. He hums and haws as he looks, and Kira gets to work on making their drinks. Since they order the same thing every time they come in, it hadn’t taken her long to memorize their orders. “How are you doing, my most favourite barista, you?”

Kira giggles and ignores the way her cheeks flush, just a little. She’s always preferred fellow Omegas to Alphas and...well, Stiles  _ is _ very attractive. Long limbs and pretty eyes and big lips and, uh, very nice hands. Kira might have a bit of crush. So what? 

“I’m okay,” she finally says, remembering to answer the question that Stiles had asked. “It’s been a bit busy, though.”

She turns with both of their drinks in hand—Stiles’ is a sugar-filled monstrosity that Kira can’t even  _ make _ without feeling she’s getting a cavity, and his Alpha’s is their strongest roast, black aside from a small splash of almond milk. She places Stiles’ on the counter but hands his Alpha his own, blushing a little when he gives her a  _ very _ attractive smile and purrs a “thank you.”

Sure, she may prefer Omegas, but this Alpha is exceptionally attractive, even if he is a bit older. 

“Can we get one of these?” Stiles asks, and Kira goes over to see him pointing at one of the orange and black bagels they’ve been selling all of October. “Oh, and something sweet for the grumpy cat over there. He needs a little cheering up today,” Stiles tells her, shooting her a very dramatized wink as he slides back up to the man's side, fitting himself underneath the Alpha’s shoulder and pressing their entire sides together.

The Alpha—Peter, she thinks his name is—gives Stiles a look that quickly melts from annoyed to something so soft that Kira’s chest aches, a little. He turns his head enough that his chin digs into Stiles’ temple, leaving behind a pink flush from the stubble he’s sporting. It’s a good look, Kira thinks absently, nicer than his usual clean-shaven. 

Kira gets back to work, packing up the treats Stiles had pointed at. She rings them through while making small talk with Stiles. He always asks after the college program she’s taking, and the fact that he remembers everything she tells him always makes her blush. His Alpha says a few things here and there, but for the most part he stands quietly beside Stiles.

“And one last thing,” Stiles says, before he reaches across the counter and grabs her hand. He keeps eye contact as he raises her arm to his mouth, and he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. As soon as his lips touch her skin, his eyes flash a brilliant, beautiful gold that has Kira inhaling sharply. “There you go. A little something that should help the rest of your shift go by a bit easier.”

Kira blinks slowly, her hand hanging in midair before she pulls it back. It’s tingling, her entire hand, and slowly the feeling spreads across her entire body. She blinks, and the next moment she’s feeling like she just got the best night's sleep in her entire life, completely energized and wide awake. 

“Whoa,” she whispers, staring at her bare hand as though there should be some sign of the magic Stiles must have performed. When she looks up, Stiles is smiling at her kindly, and his Alpha is watching him with a look so affectionate he practically has hearts in his eyes. “Thank you,” she says, and she gets a wink from Stiles before he takes his Alpha’s hand and pulls him out of the shop.

Kira slumps forward, resting against the counter as her heart rate very slowly climbs down to something normal. Her face is still flushed, she can tell by the heat in her cheeks, and she presses a hand against her chest, feeling completely ridiculous and ridiculously happy. 

* * *

Stiles wrinkles his nose up in distaste, looking down at the suit Peter forced him into. Literally. Peter  _ dressed _ him. Sure, it was fun and kind of hot and really kind of kinky, but  _ still _ . Stiles will never enjoy being dressed up like this, no matter how soft the fabrics were or how well fitted the clothes were.

“Darling, do stop fussing,” Peter murmurs, snagging Stiles’ hand from where it has been smoothing down his tux for the umpteenth time. Stiles twines their fingers together, sidling up next to him and pressing their sides together. Peter brushes a kiss to his temple, his stubble scratching Stiles’ forehead, and Stiles purrs; a noise that is purely Omega. 

“I hate suits,” Stiles grumbles under his breath, knowing that Peter will hear him. He keeps a pleasant look on his face despite his complaints; he knows how much Peter cares about appearances. 

“But you look so good in them,” Peter tells him, raising Stiles’ hand to his lips so he can kiss Stiles’ knuckles. 

It’s at that moment that Peter’s assistant walks by, giving Stiles a very cautious look. Stiles snorts a sip of champagne out of his nose, coughing on the burn as he chokes. He remembers exactly what he had come over to tell  Peter, before he got distracted by the too tight cling of his suit. 

“Baby,” Stiles asks as soon as he’s cleared his airway, his voice rising in amusement. “Why did your secretary ask me if I was here under duress?”

Peter looks at him, blinks slowly, and then tilts his head to the side before asking, “She what?”

“She asked if you were forcing me to be here,” Stiles says, eyes flicking across the room to where said assistant is standing at the punch bowl. “She wanted to know if you were blackmailing me or threatening me.”

“She thinks you’re here under duress because Peter is such a terrifying bastard there’s no way a human Omega would be with him otherwise.” Stiles startles at Isaac’s voice, not having heard him walk up over the din of conversations. 

“I mean, I guess being here under duress is better than being your...what was it that your sister called me that time? Your current toy?” Stiles asks, leaning heavier against Peter’s side. He lays a hand over Peter’s heart when he starts to growl. “Can it, big  guy. It doesn’t matter to me what she thinks of us.” 

Peter gives Stiles a pout which Stiles kisses away. He knows how most people see the two of them, and he has long since gotten used to people’s inaccurate assumptions. Stiles is confident in his relationship, and he has been since Peter formally asked his father for courting rights, years ago. 

Back then, Stiles had been nothing more than a college student who worked part-time at the Sheriff’s station. Peter had still been rising in the law community, and he wasn’t the big, sought-after attorney that he was now. They had met, they had courted one another, and they had bonded. 

It never bothered Stiles how others saw them. Peter is an Alpha and a werewolf and an Alpha werewolf, and Stiles is a human Omega. A spark, yes, but no one could tell unless he was using his magic. Peter is older and successful and Stiles works in a bookstore with an art degree. People are going to have opinions and Stiles isn’t going to let them bother him. Peter isn’t quite there—though it is the way that people looked down at Stiles that bothers him more than anything else. 

“Hey, ‘Sac, ” Stiles says, smiling when Isaac bumps their shoulders together. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. He focuses back on the party, on his Alpha’s warmth and the weight of his arm around Stiles’ shoulder. 

His bond with Isaac is shining warmly between them; still new and fragile. After Scott’s...well, after he fucked an Argent, Isaac had finally had enough. Stiles had finally been able to convince Isaac that Scott wasn’t good for him, and even though it hadn’t liked having to bad talk his best friend, it had all been true. 

Peter had accepted Isaac as his beta immediately; both he and Stiles had just been waiting for Isaac to get over Scott. Now, it’s easy for Stiles to smile with his Alpha and pack member so close, and he ignores the looks that people keep shooting him: concern, confusion, jealousy. No one else matters, not to him, and he hums happily when Peter once again presses a kiss to his forehead. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written anything like this before, and it was a pretty fun experience! Happy Birthday, I hope you enjoy this <3
> 
> A big thank you to Levi for reading this as I went, and Sohama for your input.
> 
> beta'd by the amazing [AuguriesofInnocence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuguriesofInnocence)!
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> [my dreamwidth](https://lavenderlotion.dreamwidth.org/) and my [my tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


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